


D'Amour

by broyougottastoprn



Category: this isn't part of a fandom
Genre: LGBT, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broyougottastoprn/pseuds/broyougottastoprn
Summary: An old man reminisces his life as a teenager, and the love of his life.
Relationships: yes? - Relationship
Kudos: 1





	D'Amour

**Author's Note:**

> In order to really experience what I’m going for here, you’ll need to listen to some songs. I have provided numbers within the story for you to use as a guide, and the key is just below. If the story is already finished, I may keep adding songs, so keep that in mind. Also, these are optional, and if you can’t listen to them that’s fine, but they are highly recommended. Oh and if you have suggestions I will take them.  
> (Listen before/when you start reading): Crepuscolo sul mare - Piero Umiliani  
> 1: Chances Are - Johnny Mathis  
> 2: Pluto Projector (3:00) - Rex Orange County  
> 3: La Vie En Rose (Single) - Louis Armstrong  
> 4: Mrs Magic - Strawberry Guy  
> (Listen as/when you finish): At Last - Etta James
> 
> Also I decided to just put the whole story here and not split it into chapters so yeah I hope that helps.

Mathis slowly hobbled under the blue and white striped canopy of the cafe. It’s edges were worn and yellow, flapping softly in the wind. The canopy hung low over three small wire tables, each joined by two or three matching chairs, and decorated with a paper tablecloth and small glass candles. The cafe itself was a faded deep green. The gold paint on the windows, spelling Einbeck in bold letters, was rusty and chipped, but most people agreed it only added to the character of the business, and the owners were reluctant to change it. Two heavy wooden doors standing upon three small steps guarded it’s entrance, and large golden handles hung heavily on either of them. Every detail was ancient, the cafe had stood there for longer than Mathis could even remember.  
Pulling out a chair, he adjusted his scarf. It was old and frayed at the ends, embroidered with detailed snowflakes and swirls, many of which were also torn. It was striped with dark shades of red and green, smelling of rosemary and dusty attics, and it was bundled tightly around his neck. His grey hair fell over his forehead, all of it’s color had disappeared years ago. It was receding, but still as full and thick as it had ever been. His face was narrow and round, and his cheekbones stuck out slightly in elegant curves. His skin was deathly pale and his eyes sunk slightly into his skull. They were a bright hazel, almost amber. He was small and thin, he hadn’t grown much since he was almost sixteen. Mathis wore his favorite black coat. It was thin, but it kept him plenty warm. His cotton pants were tightly fitted, and were wrinkled and worn at the knees.  
He could see his breath in the air. It floated through the air like smoke from a cigarette. It was a crisp morning, but a wonderful day nonetheless. A short, round waiter hurried his way through the doors, holding a small mug and a steaming kettle. Tapping graciously down the stairs, he made his way to Mathis’ side.  
“Ah, good morning!” Mathis chimed. “It would seem winter is almost upon us.”  
“Yes, indeed.” Antoine smiled. He poured fresh hot chocolate into Mathis’ favorite mug. It was elegantly decorated with gold paint, glitter, and the occasional counterfeit diamond. A small angel was painted on the front, its face cooked and calm. It was faded and chipped after all its years of use, primarily by Mathis. He had been its elementary user since he was a child.  
“Today’s letter?” Antoine asked, tilting his head.  
“Why, of course,” Mathis scoffed. “I couldn’t forget it if I tried.”  
He gently tugged a small envelope out of his coat pocket, a small rose tied to it with a thin red string. He held it lightly with the tips of his fingers, admiring his envelope folding techniques. After a soft kiss to the back side of the letter, he placed it in front of the seat across from him. A smile graced his thin, pale lips. He swung his head toward Antione, who was still watching over him. “Has he been enjoying them as of late?”  
“He loves them, Mathis,” He smiled. “He always does.”  
He smiled again, gesturing his hand towards the door. “You should get back inside before you freeze to death young man.”  
Antione nodded graciously and sauntered back through the doors, creaking obnoxiously before they closed. Mathis placed his fingertips on the small handle, lifting the small mug to his lips. He glanced at his neatly written envelope, reminiscing over his past. He sighed, studying his small town, though it was not so small as it had once been. As he liked to remember it.  
Just then, two young boys raced by on bicycles, laughing and shouting. The boy in front plowed into the corner and flew off of his bike. He rolled across the pavement, tumbling like a snowball. Mathis crossed his legs, watching the commotion between the two boys. The little one rocked back and forth on the ground, holding his leg close to his chest. He opened his hands and looked down. “My knee!”

~

“My knee!” Phillip groaned. He was wearing his schoolboy’s uniform, grey shorts and a matching light jacket. His plaid tie had come undone hours ago. Mathis stood over him, his bike lying on the ground by his side. Mathis knelt down, touching Phillip’s knee.  
He pulled away, grimacing. “Jesus Christ, stop it that hurts.”  
“C’mon.”  
Mathis reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him up. Phillip was about two inches taller than Mathis, and liked to rub it in. He winced, more blood. They made their way across the street to little Cafe Einbeck. The canopy over the front of the cafe hid them from the blazing midday sun. He helped him onto the chair, resting Phillip’s weight against his shoulder. He ran inside, fetching towels and water. He rushed back out, the door creaking behind him. Pulling his chair next to Phillip’s, he poured water over his wound.  
“Christ!” He blurted, his hand darting up to his forehead.  
“Calm down, you’re not dying.”  
Phillip’s voice was deep. It flowed like honey out of his throat. It rumbled when he was tired, like a bear almost. His eyes were the brightest of blue and his hair was black as night. It curled over his forehead like springs, every so often covering his eyes. Mathis glanced up at him. They smiled at each other. Phillip’s face was red. It was always red. But now more than usual. He was covered in freckles, from head to toe. They were scattered heavily on his face, and they travelled lightly over his arms and hands. He was tall and lanky, his fingers were long and bony, and his square jaw cut straight through his neck. Most people, including Mathis, couldn’t help but stare. “Thank you.” Phillip grinned, placing his hand on Mathis’ thigh. He smiled at him.  
An old couple watched them from another table, occasionally glancing over to see an upsettingly anticlimactic moment take place. Taking him by surprise, Phillip leapt to his feet. He winced, and reduced the weight on his right leg. “That’s it for one adventure, my friend,” (He liked to speak all proper sometimes) He held out his hand. “Now we must begin another.” Mathis hesitantly took his hand before being led back onto his bike. They rode further past town as a blush spread across Mathis’ face. Most definitely from the sun and nothing else. 

~

Mathis shook the memory off. Shivering from the cold, he took another sip of his chocolate. The boy from before had gotten over his injury quite quickly, and had soon returned to pestering the older residents that happened to be on the street. Antoine snuck out the doors, it seemed those doors were doomed to creak for eternity. He nervously approached Mathis’ table, gesturing to a small woman standing behind him.  
“Mathis, this is Jeanne,” She smiled weakly. “She’s new as of today, and she’ll be taking care of you for a while.” He patted her softly on the back before swiftly returning indoors. Jeanne was small and frail. Her cheeks and nose were already rosy from the cold. Her hair was blonde, and tied up in a small bun high on her head. She wore a short blue skirt, white button up, and a small apron decorated with baby blue lace. She stood there in silence for a moment, staring awkwardly at the old man in front of her. Mathis paid no mind. He simply smiled at the cars buzzing by.  
She smiled again. “Sir, are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable inside?”  
“Not at all,” He scoffed, waving her off. “It’s a beautiful day.”  
She glanced down at the pristine envelope on the table. Reaching down, she lifted it gently. Written delicately and in perfect cursive on the back was a name.  
“Phillip,”  
Mathis turned sharply “Put that down, darling! It's not meant for anybody else.”  
She quickly put it down again.  
“I’m sorry my dear,” He grimaced. “You couldn’t have known,”  
“May I ask,” she shrugged. “Who is he?”  
Mathis smiled. He took a last sip of his chocolate while chuckling softly to himself. He gestured for her to sit. She did. Their breaths filled the air like fog. He sunk deeper into his red and blue scarf, sighing. He looked over at her, he was glad she had asked.  
“Oh, dear, he was everything.”

~

The sun had almost dipped below the horizon by the time they finished their hot chocolates. It wasn’t necessarily a cold day, but hot chocolate could do no wrong. At least in the minds of Phillip and Mathis. Mathis’ mug was unlike any other the small cafe had to offer. It was adorned with gold and glittering swirls, jewels, and a vibrant angel painted on the front. Its face was round and smiling, long golden hair floating around it’s head. “Why is it you always use that mug, Mathis?” Phillip inquired.  
“I’m not sure,” He shrugged. “I’ve been using it since I was a kid. I used to come here with my mother. She was friends with one of the waiters, he gave me this one day, and I guess I’ve been using it ever since.  
“It really must be special then, huh?”  
Mathis only smiled and chuckled softly to himself, tapping on the delicate handle of his prized “special cup.” He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Paul appeared standing across the table from them, gesturing towards their empty cups. He was their favorite waiter, and he served them every time they sat down outside the old, creaky doors of the cafe. “Finished?” Paul asked.  
“Thank you,” Both boys replied in unison.  
Paul nodded and strode back inside. The two boys sat together in silence as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, leaving them in a dark blue chill. Each one had a hand placed on the table, and their fingers brushed together gently. Mathis shivered, both of them were dressed adequately only for a breezy summer day. Phillip stood up and slid his chair under the table. He leaned over and rested his elbows on the back of the chair. He kicked his left leg back and tucked it behind his right ankle. He exhaled lightly, his breath illuminated in the air. Mathis sat up and gripped the seat of the chair as he turned toward Phillip, smiling nervously.  
“Are you ready?” Phillip asked.  
“What?” Mathis replied, flustered.  
“To leave. It’s late, we should head home.”  
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”  
Phillip chuckled nonchalantly. “C’mon.”  
He held out his hand, loosely. Mathis reached out and took his hand in his own as he was lifted from his seat. They walked side by side along the narrow sidewalk that curved down the hill, winding deeper into town. And as they walked, their hands loosened, but never separated. Their arms swung together, and their shoulders brushed occasionally. Mathis kept his head down and kept his eyes glued to the ground, he couldn’t speak. Phillip walked briskly and rhythmically, his head held high upon his shoulders. He glanced occasionally at Mathis. Their shoes tapped rhythmically on the pavement. They stepped in puddles, splashing water on their tall black socks. They walked along a long brick wall lining the yards of tall, Victorian houses. Hedges and iron gates decorated each one, some branches stuck out and tangled in Mathis’ orange hair. They finally reached the gateless opening of Mathis’ home, stopping just outside. A dim lantern bathed them in an orange glow.  
“Thank you,” Mathis smiled. “I’ll… see you tomorrow.”  
Phillip watched him walk away. “Wait.”  
Mathis stopped abruptly and spun around. Phillip was only a dark silhouette now, standing in the open gateway.  
“Mathis, I-” He started.  
“What?” Mathis tilted his head.  
“You-” He rubbed his eyebrows, his shoulders rose and fell. He was shaking nervously, fiddling with his hands and looking anywhere other than at Mathis. He finally looked up, and took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry,” He said softly, reaching his arms toward Mathis.  
“For what-”  
(2) He was cut off by Phillip’s lips on his own. He held his hand against the back of Mathis’ neck, pulling him closer. His head bobbed up and down. Mathis grabbed his shoulders and pushed him off. His eyes darted back and forth over Phillip’s face, confused. He looked tired. Broken, even. It was strange. He always looked so content, so orderly. But not now, not with Mathis. Despite this, his eyes were the brightest, the bluest they had ever been. They glimmered brightly despite the moon's absence. Mathis laid a hand on Phillip’s cheek, breathing out of his mouth. Phillip’s eyes were red with tears.  
“I-,” Phillip stuttered, his eyes were wide and startled, as if he had surprised himself.  
“No,” Mathis said quietly. “No.”  
Mathis pulled Phillip’s face up and brought it to his own. Their lips were just inches from each other. Mathis held him by his collar, his legs shaking and shifting. He pulled him close and kissed him again, harder this time. He ran his fingers through Phillip’s soft hair, something he had secretly always wanted to do. Mathis pushed him slowly against the damp brick wall, separating for a moment. He held his head in his hands, and looking into his blue eyes, Mathis smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner.” Bringing their faces back together, they kissed passionately as an autumn rain began to fall. 

~

Jeanne had long since gone back indoors. They hadn’t said much. Mathis only looked up at the high rooftops, a weak look on his face. People had been going in and out of the cafe all morning, apparently autumn is a popular time for coffee. The air was sharper now then when Mathis had arrived. His small rose had begun to frost, each petal curling inwards. He frowned, he had hoped it would stay fresh for longer. It was just past noon, and a thin cloud cover had shrouded the sun. It was darker now. He sighed, something was off today. He could feel it. He wasn’t the same. He crossed his legs the other way, shifting in his seat as Jeanne and Antoine sauntered out the doors. Antoine held a large wool blanket, and in Jeanne’s hands was another fresh kettle of steaming chocolate. She had finally put on some real pants, and wore a jacket and a light scarf.  
“Mathis,” Antoine sighed. “I know you insist upon staying in the cold, so the least we could do is bring you something.”  
Mathis laughed. “Ah, you shouldn’t have.”  
“We know,” Jeanne smiled. It was genuine this time.  
“I can’t thank you enough, darlings,” He said as he accepted the blanket.  
Jeanne poured fresh chocolate into his cup, and pushed it towards him. She gently set the pot on the table, pulled a chair from another, and sat next to him.  
“She insisted on staying out with you,” Antoine shrugged before shuffling away.  
Jeanne turned towards him, a sorry look on her face. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”  
“Of course not, dear. I always appreciate a little company.”  
“I was wondering..”  
“Yes?”  
“Why do you write him letters?” She shrugged. “Phillip.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, why wouldn’t you just send him the letters. Like, in the mail.”  
Mathis sighed, shifting slightly in his seat. “You want to know?”  
“Yeah,” She nodded softly, an almost concerned look on her face.  
Mathis let out a quick breath. He turned his chair towards Jeanne, resting his forearms on the thin paper tablecloth. He twisted his fingers together, putting his head down for a moment. Lifting it, Jeanne could see his eyes were red.  
“Before I say anything, you must know,” Mathis coughed. “He was the love of my life.”

~

It was cold as death outside, and fluffy snow fell slowly by the window. Frost had corroded it’s edges in swirling, icy shards. Mathis’ mother had allowed Phillip to spend the night on Christmas Eve, his family was often there in the morning anyhow. They had spent the night playing games, exchanging glances, shaking gifts, and brushing their legs together under the table during dinner. Mathis’ mother snapped at them, “get to sleep before Father Christmas arrives!” They were both sixteen. Phillip and Mathis had been together in secret for about three months. Most of their time was spent at the cafe, but their most precious moments were held in shadows and empty rooms. A week earlier, they were almost caught against the wall in the small alleyway behind the Einbeck.  
Mathis stayed in his own bedroom of course, while Phillip was given the guest room just across the hall. Mathis peered out his window, the moon escaping through the clouds for just a moment. He laid his hand lightly on his bare chest, moving his index finger in a small circle just over his heart. The door handle jiggled, Mathis quickly rolled over and shut his eyes, breathing steadily and softly as to create the illusion of sleep. Feet padded against the floor as the door creaked open.  
“Mathis?” It was Phillip. His striped blue shirt was unbuttoned, and he wore matching boxers that made his already bony legs seem thinner.  
Mathis sat up on his elbows as Phillip quietly shut the door behind him. He smiled, sighing softly.  
“Is she gone?”  
“She won’t be back upstairs until morning.”  
Phillip padded over to the bed, reaching out his hand.  
“What?” Mathis tilted his head.  
“Dance with me.”  
(1) Mathis took his hand as Phillip pulled him up, holding him close. Phillip’s hands traveled gently onto Mathis’ upper back, settling finally just below his shoulders. He spread his fingers, absorbing every inch of him that he could. The skin on Mathis’ back was soft and warm, and his orange hair glowed in the moonlight, soft as clouds. He tucked his head against Phillip’s shoulder, breathing into his neck. He smelled of rosemary. They swayed back and forth in silence, holding each other tightly. Mathis felt a hand softly combing through his hair, a thumb brushing just against his ear. Their breathing fell into sync, and shared their warmth, thinking now only of each other. Mathis felt Phillip’s heart beating, steady and strong. They spun around slowly as they danced, leaving the rest of the world behind. They pulled apart just slightly, an inch, maybe less, between them. Mathis smiled, blush spreading across his face.  
“Phillip?” He whispered.  
“Yeah?”  
“I,” He hesitated. “I think I’m in love with you.”  
Phillip stopped suddenly, staring straight into Mathis’ eyes. He backed him into the bed, Mathis sat down, his hands still draped loosely over Phillip’s arms.  
Phillip drifted into Mathis’ arms, his hands resting on his chest.  
“I'm in love with you too.” He muttered, his voice smooth as silk.  
They stared at each other for a moment, the moonlight painting them in silver. Phillip’s eyes sparkled like jewels. They looked almost like diamonds. Mathis placed his hand against Phillip’s face, pulling him in. They kissed softly, separating and exhaling in unison. Phillip wrapped his arms around him, then buried his head in Mathis’ shoulder as they sank down onto the bed. Phillip’s hands traveled up and down his arm, up his shoulders, and eventually, to the nape of his neck. Mathis rolled over on top of him, kissing him again. They chuckled quietly as they held each other's faces in their hands, breathing steadily. The snow fell harder, the sky grew darker, and the frost spread further across the window.  
\- later -  
The clock struck four in the morning. The snow fell harder now, and the clouds had thickened. Mathis breathed deeply, Phillip’s long arm stretching over his chest. He sat up slowly, startling Mathis awake.  
“Shit,” Phillip muttered.  
“What?” Mathis yawned, his eyes refused to open all the way.  
“I forgot your gift.”  
“It doesn’t matter. You can get it later.”  
“No,” Phillip said. “I wanted you to have it at sunrise. It’s important.”  
Mathis glanced outside, his face contorting. “Don’t go out there, it looks like hell.”  
Phillip had already hopped out of the bed, quickly and quietly skipping towards the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”  
Mathis huffed in protest, but fell back onto the bed, too tired to get up. He glanced out his window, it had only gotten worse outside, the snow falling like icy shards rather than cotton. After a few short minutes, Phillip finally shuffled back through the door, making his way over to Mathis’ side. He was wearing heavy boots and warm black trousers. His jacket was layered, and lined down the middle with large black buttons. Around his neck was a green and red scarf, decorated with elegant swirls and snowflakes. Phillip’s mother had given it to him the day before.  
“I’ll be back soon,” He smiled.  
“Don’t leave,” Mathis said weakly. “Please.”  
Phillip chuckled. “It’ll be worth it, trust me.”  
Mathis covered his face. “Fine.”  
Phillip leaned down and kissed him sideways, holding his face delicately in his hands. They breathed slowly in and out, neither of them close enough to the other. As Phillip began to rise, Mathis rose with him, their lips still together. Mathis flopped back down onto the bed, caressing Phillip’s cheek.  
“Be quick, okay?”  
Phillip gave him one last small kiss. “I will.”  
He walked quietly to the other side of the room, and just before he closed the door, he turned and whispered.  
“I love you, Mathis.”

~

“That was the last time I saw him.” Mathis sighed, his knuckles red from the cold. “He went missing that night.”  
The sun had almost set, casting an orange haze over the town. The rose glowed in the sunlight, despite being almost dead. Jeanne was silent, her eyes pinned to the ground. Mathis stared at her, waiting for what he hoped would be a few words of empathy. She sniffed, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She stood up quickly, straightened her coat, and walked away briskly without looking at him. Mathis didn’t move, didn’t huff in protest as he often did. He took a quick glance at his watch, almost six o’clock. Reaching into his coat pocket, he grabbed a small pile of coins, each of them shiny and freshly polished. He dropped them gently on the table, sighing slowly. Using the back of his chair as support, he stood up shakily. He turned around, folded the blanket Antoine had given, placed it on the seat of the chair, and smiled. Another day was done. He always wondered when it would be his last.  
(3) After giving a small wave to Antoine through the window, he turned and hobbled his way back home. It was a short walk, just two streets over. But Mathis liked to take the long route. He walked slowly through the alley behind the cafe, dragging his fingers against the cool brick wall. He then took a turn left and walked along the stone bike paths that winded throughout town, two young boys whizzing by, one of whom was tall, with jet black hair and freckles decorating his face and hands. He wore his school uniform, grey shorts and a matching light jacket, tie almost completely undone, despite the cold weather. Mathis smiled, feeling peaceful. He took a right and made his way down a curved slope, a few cars slowly rattling past. After finally arriving at the gates of his home, he stopped, admiring the old mossy bricks. They had stood there, sturdy and unbreakable, since before he was born.  
He patted them softly with his hand before turning and walking down the long path to the front steps. Unlike the doors at the cafe, Mathis’ front door was smooth and clean, and it did not creak as it opened. He shut it quietly behind him, shaking off his coat and hanging it up on a hook adjacent to the doorframe. The house was warm. He had lit a small fire before leaving, in hopes that it would be able to keep it warm until he arrived, luckily, he had not been let down. The floors were polished wood, a deep amber in color. Just across from the door was a tall staircase leading to the second floor, and to the left was the sitting room and kitchen. The sitting room was decorated with two green armchairs and a matching green rug with tassels on either end. A small table was placed in the middle of the rug, a small green succulent resting on top of it.  
Mathis smiled and slowly made his way up the stairs, he could tell he had gotten old. At the top of the stairs was a narrow hallway leading to a bathroom at the end and two bedrooms across the hall from one another, Mathis’ room and the guest room. Mathis hobbled down the hallway, floorboards creaking underneath his weight. He pushed the bathroom door open, switching on the dim yellow light. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was no longer the vivid orange it had once been, and his face was wrinkled and sagged. He reached his hand up shakily and touched his cheek. His skin was rough and thin. He ran his hands through his hair, it was still thick, but it was hard and stringy, not soft and full as he remembered it. He changed into a pair of warm trousers and a loose wool sweater. Already feeling tired, he made his way down the hall and into his bedroom.  
Outside the window, fluffy snowflakes fell softly just as the sun fell below the horizon, casting a deep blue over Mathis’ vision. He padded his way to his bed, sitting just on the edge. Reaching over to his bedside table, he gently picked up a small wooden frame. In the frame was a picture of Phillip. The last one he ever managed to find. He had recovered it from an old school picture book that had almost been disposed of. Bringing the picture to his lips and resting a hand on his chest, he sighed lightly.  
“Goodnight darling,” He whispered. “Sleep well.”  
He then set the picture back onto the table, but this time face down. He switched off the light, slowly crawling into bed. He pulled the covers just over his chin, curling up underneath them. As the night darkened, his body grew cold, and his bones stiff. His heart had grown silent, and the air around him became still. When the sun finally rose from its slumber, Mathis did not join it. Instead, of course, he had journeyed somewhere far greater, somewhere that from which he would not return. 

~ 

(4) The sun cast a bright haze, reflecting off of the fresh snow. Mathis grumbled, reaching for Phillip. Instead, he found cold and wrinkled sheets.  
“Phillip?” He whispered.  
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced around the room, running a hand through his hair. Nobody there. He hopped up from the bed and, pulling on a sweater, opened his door and skipped across the hall.  
“Phillip,” He said quietly. “Why didn’t you come back last night?”  
He chuckled, briskly hopping into the room. As he looked down at the bed, his smile faded. The sheets hadn’t been touched. They were perfectly folded. Phillip never made his bed. Mathis rushed over to the bed and sniffed the pillows. To his disappointment, they did not smell of rosemary. He stood abruptly, backing away from the bed.  
“Fuck.” He muttered.  
He spun around and sprinted down the hall, his hair bouncing as he did so. He took the stairs two at a time, turning around at the bottom and using the railing for support. His mother was in the kitchen whipping batter in a large bowl and humming to herself.  
“Mom!” He snapped, grabbing her shoulders.  
She jumped, startled, almost dropping her bowl. “Goodness, what is it?”  
“Did Phillip come back last night?” He demanded. “Is he here?”  
She looked worried. “No I… I haven’t seen him yet. What’s going on?”  
Before she had finished, Mathis was already pulling on his boots and a coat. As he tied his scratchy scarf around his neck, he turned to her.  
“He went out last night, said he had to get something. He’s not here.”  
“What?” His mother snapped, dropping the bowl hard on the table.  
“I said he’s not here!” He shouted, his eyes red. “I’m going to find him!”  
Before his mother had a chance to object, he had already slammed the door behind him. The snow was almost impossible to walk through, at least five inches high. Mathis trudged as fast as he could, looking for any sign of Phillip. He climbed up the hill that led to Phillip’s home, shouting his name the entire time. Along the way, Mathis passed by the cafe, snowed in for the day. Just as he was about to continue, something caught his eye. A small tassel barely poking out of the snow. He dove into the snow, digging vigorously. He yanked out Phillip’s scarf, the one he had worn when he left the night before. He dug faster, searching for anything else that might belong to him.  
“Phillip!” He screamed, his throat raw. “Phillip!”  
He knelt down, holding the scarf close to his chest. Suddenly, his mother came up behind him, a worried look on her face.  
“What is going on?” She snapped at him, grabbing his shoulder.  
Mathis looked up at her, his face red and stained with tears. “I can’t find him, mom. I don’t know where he is.” He choked.  
She knelt beside him. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s somewhere.”  
“No. He wouldn’t disappear like this. Somethings wrong.” He sobbed.  
“Okay,” She said softly. “Okay, we’ll find him. It’ll be alright.”  
Mathis sobbed again, clinging onto the scarf almost for dear life.

~

After three months of searching, Phillip was declared dead. The entire town had assisted in the search, even the national government had intervened for a while. Mathis protested this, insisting that the search continued. The police had told him they would keep looking for him, but they couldn’t provide the kind of help they had been any longer. Mathis had locked himself in his room for months, either sobbing or sleeping restlessly. Most of the food he was given did not end up being eaten. He finally opened his door at four in the morning on christmas day. Exactly a year since Phillip had disappeared. He didn’t say anything upon creeping down the stairs, he simply sat and stared out the window, as if he was waiting for Phillip to return after all this time.  
When Mathis’ parents found him there that morning, they didn’t speak, only embraced him gently and placed a mug of fresh hot chocolate beside him. His mother kissed him on the top of his head, and said “it’s alright, dear.” Mathis eventually told them about him and Phillip. That they were more than just friends. They may have only been together a few months, but had loved each other for far longer than that. Luckily for him, his parents were some of the only open-minded people in the area, and they accepted him with open arms.  
Just after the beginning of the new year, Mathis wrote his first letter. He purchased a single small rose from the local florist, and tied it delicately to the letter with a piece of string. He then bundled up in his warmest clothing, and headed for the cafe with the envelope in his pocket. He arrived early in the morning, and stayed until sunset, waiting for Phillip to find him again. Before leaving, he placed the letter on the table, asking that the waiters kept an eye on it for him. As Mathis grew older, he began bringing letters almost every day. He always sat outside, afraid he might miss Phillip if he got distracted inside. For years, the waiters were told that if they were to find his letter outside, they must bring it inside and put it with the rest in the bookshelf. (Not long after Mathis started bringing letters, the owners bought a bookshelf to keep them in.)  
After Mathis grew old and passed on, some of the envelopes were framed inside of the cafe, but none of them were ever opened. The name of the cafe was even changed to the D’Amour in honor of Phillip, for D’Amour was his last name. Antoine placed a rose at Mathis’ table every day for the next few years, until he moved to America with his family. Mathis was buried next to Phillip’s tombstone, although his body was never found. For decades, the love that they felt for each other would be considered the most passionate and powerful the townspeople had ever seen, and many hoped to one day achieve that kind of relationship with another. Although Mathis may have lost Phillip, he never felt that way. And in the end, of course, they found each other again. 

~ Fin ~

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for reading! Sorry it was really long. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to read more from me. I've always wanted to take up writing and this is the first story I've really put my all into. So yeah thank you.


End file.
